


How to Shape a Century (By Proxy)

by BrighteyedJill, piglet_illustrations (thefilthiestpiglet)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Begging, Cock Cages, Collars, Dubious Consent, Figging, HYDRA Trash Party, Humiliation, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Shock Collars, brief graphic memory of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 20:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilthiestpiglet/pseuds/piglet_illustrations
Summary: After acquiring the Winter Soldier from the Soviets, Alexander Pierce intends to make sure his orders will be followed. The Asset must endure a test to prove his loyalty as well as his endurance. But what Pierce has planned is no obstacle course or shooting range battery. Order can come through pain, yes, but pleasure is just as harsh a teacher.





	How to Shape a Century (By Proxy)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration for the 2019 MCU Kink Big Bang. Thefilthiestpiglet provided the beautiful art, and brighteyedjill wrote the text. The Asset just sat around looking pretty and confused.

“Leave him.” 

The man behind the desk was one the Asset had seen before: approximately 1.75 meters tall, blond hair, sharp blue eyes, code name Alexander Pierce. Though his rank in the organization was unknown, he seemed senior to the Asset’s other current handlers. At least, on the few occasions they’d met, everyone had deferred to this man.

“Sir…” The guard glanced at the Asset, then at the door. “Are you sure you—“

“I’m not in any danger from him, Wells.” A corner of Pierce’s mouth quirked up, as if he wanted to smile. “You may go.”

The Asset stood at attention, staring straight ahead as the guard who had escorted him left the room. Though he’d met Pierce before, he’d never been brought to this office, which seemed conspicuously unsecured after so long spent in Hydra’s highest level of lockdown. So far, the day’s events had been a significant departure from his usual routine, so he couldn’t anticipate his next orders. Then again, most of his routines had been disrupted since his recent transfer from his old Soviet handlers to his new American ones, so he’d grown used to dealing with the unexpected.

Pierce finished settling some papers in a pile on his desk, then came around the front, slid his hands into his pockets, leaned back against the desk, and regarded the Asset for a moment before speaking. “Today you’ll be participating in a training exercise to test your self control. Before we can assign you to field duty, I need to know that you’re capable of obeying orders, even under strenuous conditions.”

There hadn’t been a question, and so the Asset did not reply. However, he relaxed slightly at this new intelligence. In the past weeks, the American scientists had been testing his capabilities, including strength and endurance. Any test of his ability to perform under strenuous circumstances would at least be met in peak physical condition. Near peak. Last night he had sustained some minor injuries related to new duties required by his current handlers, but they should not impeded function.

“Take your clothes off.”

The Asset removed his boots first. The rest of his clothing—soft training attire rather than combat gear—he folded neatly and stacked on the floor in front of him before returning to attention.

Pierce looked him over slowly, not lingering on one physical feature more than any other. What he saw seemed to please him, for he gave a quick nod.

“We’ll be using some supplies. Over there, on the credenza. You’ll need the syringe first.”

       

The far wall of Pierce’s office was taken up by large windows that displayed commanding view of Washington, DC. The unease the Asset felt in standing next to the windows in broad daylight was likely due to habits formed in his many years of missions requiring stealth. It was possible the Americans did not intend to use him for covert missions. He may need to learn new skills to fulfill the functions they intended for him. But that was not his to decide. His superiors would give orders, and he would carry them out, as always.

There were several items laid out in a neat row on the credenza, but the Asset spared no attention for anything but his goal. The syringe, filled with a vaguely luminous blue liquid, lay nestled in a padded case. The Asset picked it up, then looked at Pierce for further orders.

“Our medical staff has developed a chemical compound that will simulate stressful conditions. It’s specially formulated for your… unique physiology. You’ll need to inject yourself. Are you familiar with the procedure?”

In answer, the Asset plunged the needle into his thigh, hitting his target just as accurately as he would with a knife, and pushing the plunger down. Then, hesitating, he looked up at Pierce. The Americans had not expected nor encouraged initiative in the Asset the way the Soviets had. Perhaps Pierce had wanted a verbal answer instead. But Pierce didn’t look angry, only vaguely amused.

“Well, that’s that, then. We should still have a few minutes before it takes effect.”

At a gesture from Pierce, the Asset removed the syringe and settled it back in its case. Pierce had seemed a bit surprised, but he hadn’t reprimanded the Asset, so taking the initiative must not have been wrong in this instance. He glanced back at Pierce, waiting for the next order. 

“There’s a collar in the square case, there. Put it on.”

The heavy collar, made of some dull metallic substance, fit snugly around the Asset’s neck, leaving just enough slack for him to breathe unimpeded. A faint hum emanated from the collar, evidence of some electronic component. The Asset fastened it securely. There was no point in wondering over its function. Pierce would explain what he needed to know for the test.

“Good. Come here.” When the Asset did so, Pierce pressed the tips of his fingers to the collar, and then to the Asset’s cheek. The touch felt strangely warm. Pierce smiled, evidently satisfied with the Asset’s actions thus far. “That’ll do. Kneel here.” Pierce indicated a rug laid out before the large mahogany desk. “I’ll explain the mission parameters.”

The Asset folded to his knees at the center of the rug, facing Pierce. The push pile of the rug felt distractingly ticklish against his bare skin. The sensation was irrelevant. He needed to concentrate on the mission briefing. 

Pierce had pushed away from the desk and stood looking down at the Asset, well within striking distance. It seemed he did not fear the Asset the way some of the other new handlers did. As well he shouldn’t. The Asset posed no danger to approved handlers. “Your objective,” Pierce said, “is to avoid orgasm for the duration of this test.”

The Asset looked up at Pierce, carefully keeping any hint of expression off his face. He didn’t wish to betray any surprise, but he hadn’t expected this test to have a sexual component. It wouldn’t be a problem, of course. Still, a flicker of concern registered somewhere outside his focus that this might indicate a shift in his usual duties. And if it did, he reminded himself, it was no concern of his. Pierce would tell him what he needed to know for future assignments, just as he was doing now. 

“The substance you injected was a mild aphrodisiac.” Pierce stepped around the Asset, reaching down to trail his fingertips over the Asset’s bare shoulder. The Asset suppressed a shiver at the sensation that felt stronger than it should. “It may challenge your self discipline. But you must not allow yourself to be distracted from your goal. You are not to touch yourself in any way, and not to climax. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Already the Asset noted his quickened heartbeat and increased respiration, both early signs of arousal. The chemical worked quickly.

“The collar is designed to help you. If you attempt to touch yourself or otherwise gain release, it will deliver a mild electric shock. But if your control is as good as your Soviet handlers claim, that shouldn’t be necessary, should it?”

“No, sir.” The Asset didn’t understand why preventing himself from orgasm would be difficult, as it had never been something he’d consciously attempted. He’d occasionally become aroused in his time with the Soviets, sometimes while sparring, or when he was asleep, or once in a great while on a mission. The Soviets had attached no particular judgment or punishment to these occurrences.

The Americans, however, were much more interested in his sexual function. Several aspects of his testing and training thus far had involved sexual contact with his handlers. He’d begun to wonder if sexual activity was meant to be included in his future missions in some way, or if this activity was meant as a kind of cross-training, to indirectly strengthen the Asset’s skills in other areas.

Pierce’s reference to self-discipline made the Asset think it might be the latter. But whatever the reason, he meant to excel in this test. His handlers had impressed upon him that Pierce was a high-ranking member of the organization, one who would be making decisions about the asset’s assignments. Therefore, the Asset needed to make a good impression. He wasn’t accustomed to failure. Though he couldn’t remember every mission, he’d been present at negotiations between the Russians and the Americans in order to demonstrate his skills, and he’d heard General Sokolov describe the Asset’s “100% mission clearance rate.” Surely refraining from orgasm couldn’t be so difficult.

“Good.” Pierce squeezed the Asset’s shoulder. “The test begins now. I’ll tell you when we’re finished.” He stepped away from the Asset and seated himself behind the desk, with every evidence of going about his usual routine. He lifted a sheet of paper from a stack and began to read.

The Asset fixed his eyes on the carpet—a rich blue with intricate patterns in white and grey. He could focus on that instead of the involuntary flush creeping over his skin. The injected compound seemed to be doing its work. The Asset settled his hands on his thighs and concentrated on breathing. As a sniper—well, an assassin, operating alone as he did-- he knew how to be patient and still. A certain state of mindless watchfulness could be achieved, shutting out mundane physical discomforts. But the heat now rising within the Asset wasn’t like a loose bit of gravel under the knee, an unreachable itch, or even the gnawing hunger of a week with no food. It shackled his awareness to his body, unbalancing his careful concentration.

His eyes drifted between his legs, where his cock was beginning to thicken. Even as he watched, it rose in an involuntary reaction. Shivers danced along the Asset’s bare skin as the cool air of the office met the hot surface of his cock. His muscles tightened, as if they could force his erection down by brute strength. That only succeeded in drawing attention to his ass, still vaguely sore from yesterday’s endurance training, which had involved an array of successively larger butt plugs. The memory made his cock twitch, and the Asset quickly focused his attention back to the rug, determined not to stray again. His hands had tightened into fists pressing hard into his thighs. He made himself relax, though the slide of his sweaty fingers flattening against his thighs sent maddening frissons of sensations through his nerves.

He risked a quick glance at Pierce. The man still pored over a densely-printed document, and didn’t seem to have noticed the Asset’s struggles. However, the Asset also caught a glimpse of the clock behind the desk and realized to his dismay that only three minutes had passed since he’d taken his position on the floor.

Pierce hadn’t specified a duration for this test, but if it was to be anything like previous trials the Asset had endured, it could last for hours, or even days. As his cock began to throb, the Asset thought perhaps he had miscalculated the difficulty of this task.

That did not mean he intended to give up. He only needed to reassess his strategy. Ignoring the rapidly intensifying sensations wasn’t working. Distraction. He needed to remember he was in control of his thoughts and of his body. The Asset closed his eyes and pictured a place he knew well: the Hydra training facility outside of Smolensk.

He’d been in charge of a training program there, teaching newly-made agents to be ruthlessly brutal, as he had been taught. When he sparred with them personally, winning had been easy. Seldom had one of them been able to lay a hand on him. In a matter of moments he would have them pinned, his superior weight bearing them down onto the mat, their hard body writhing under him, fighting to escape.

A scream jolted him out of the memory, one torn from his own throat. The collar’s sharp electric bite faded as arousal rose up in its place again, drowning out any residual sobering effect of the pain. The Asset snatched back the hand he hadn’t realized had strayed between his legs. A quick glance at Pierce showed him regarding the Asset with a frown and a raised eyebrow.

The Asset hastily flattened his hand back against his thigh and fixed his eyes again on the rug. Even that small movement jostled his aching cock, making it slide against the damp skin of his thighs. That little friction felt pleasurable enough that he had to stop himself from pressing his thighs together in search of more relief. Pleasure should meaning nothing for him. His purpose was higher than that of pursuing his own pleasure. He wasn’t one of the mindless capitalist mob, forever grasping for any scrap of indulgence they could find or steal. He was a highly disciplined tool, a weapon his master wielded to bring about a peaceful new world order. He would not be undone by such paltry temptation.

If distraction wouldn’t work, he would channel the sensations into something more mundane. Like cold. Instead of this simmering heat beneath his skin, he would make himself feel the bit of frigid winter air. On patrol in a snowy forest—he couldn’t place exactly where or when, and it wasn’t important. A rifle clutched in both hands with numbed fingers. Chill wind cutting through his coat—not tactical gear, perhaps a uniform of some kind. The steady rhythm of walking. Footfalls quiet on pine needles. Alert and sharp, with his team spread out around him.

He could feel the cold shudder through him, though he was sweating with the exertion of a long march. He concentrated on the memory of the cold, the darkness of the forest, the mindless rhythm of walking. And then he was screaming again, pain sizzling across his nerves as he realized he’d been rocking back and forth, stealing the scant bit of stimulation his slick bare skin could offer. He looked quickly to Pierce, who was watching him with a pronounced frown.

The Asset hurriedly resumed his position, this time spreading his legs further to remove the temptation to rock against them. Very well. If distraction and imagination were insufficient, it would have to be pain.

Memories of pain came easily to mind. The Asset had endured intense, prolonged pain on many occasions. Most floated hazily in his memory, divorced from time or place. The Asset needed details, needed a memory as vivid as possible. There had been a table, once. The Asset stretched out on his back, bound with thick leather straps. He trembled with exhaustion, holding back screams as a scalpel pierced his flesh, dragging through the skin of his belly with little resistance. A man in glasses loomed over the table, staring down at the Asset with interest while shadowy figures moved in the background. The coppery smell of blood mixed with distant smoke made it difficult to breathe. The shadows touched him all over. Needles sank into his arm, piercing through his flesh like slow-motion bullets. The scalpel pressed into him again, parting muscle as well as skin. He struggled against the restraints that held his limbs, his neck, his waist. If he could just get his hands free to staunch the bleeding—

The acrid smell of sizzling flesh dragged him out of the memory, and the Asset was screaming again. He threw his hands back to brace against the floor. Panting with the effort of holding still, he regarded with dismay his stiff cock, with a bead of pre-come now forming at the tip. Then his eyes slid beyond to Pierce, who stood over the Asset with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Perhaps this mission is too difficult for you,” he said slowly.

The Asset shook his head, but even as he did so, his hips thrust up involuntarily in abortive little movements.

Pierce’s frown deepened. “It’s only been twenty minutes, and already you need a shock collar to remind you of your duty.”

The cold humiliation of that statement broke against the unrelenting heat of his arousal like a wave against the side of a massive ship, and the effect was negligible. He tried to formulate a response, but found his mind stumbling from Russian to German to English, unable to form a single word. He could only gulp in air and stare up at Pierce, hoping his expression didn’t betray his growing fear that he might indeed fail.

“Fine.” Pierce glanced at his watch and gave a little shake of his head. “I can give you something that might help. Stand up.”

The Asset pushed to his feet, every muscle as tense as if he were in combat. Pierce waved him towards the equipment laid out by the window, and the Asset gritted his teeth against the tantalizing friction of his cock bouncing as he walked. Pierce, his back turned as he went to resume his seat, didn’t seem to notice.

“Bring me the ginger.”

That was food, wasn’t it? He didn’t have an image to go with the word. _Imbir_ , perhaps? He felt certain he’d known English for many years, but sometimes the words were easier to remember in Russian. Of course, he was used to filling in the blanks from context and working around the holes that pockmarked his memory. A pale, irregularly shaped root, long and knobby, among the other selections. The feel of its rough flesh against his hand sent a pleasurable shudder through him. He made it back to the desk where Pierce waited, and then stood curling his toes into the rug to prevent himself from thrusting into empty space for what little stimulation could be had in the air moving over his cock.

“Do you know what this is for?” Pierce asked, leaning back in his chair.

The Asset only stared blankly. With a sigh, Pierce pulled a small knife from his trouser pocket and flipped it open. For one hopeful moment, the Asset thought Pierce might stab him, providing a convenient and ongoing source of distraction from the unbearable arousal. Instead, Pierce turned the ginger root in his hand and began to carve, deftly directing peelings into the wastebasket beside the desk.

“You know, before you arrived, I heard so much about you from your former handlers.” Pierce looked up, as if to confirm that the Asset was listening despite his lack of response, and then went back to his leisurely carving. “They told us you were strong and loyal. That you followed orders. That they could count on you to complete missions no one else would attempt.”

Pierce glanced at the Asset’s hands, which had curled into fists as he fought the impulse to touch, and then up to the Asset’s face. “I’m beginning to think their reports of your abilities were exaggerated. I had thought you could truly be the fist of Hydra, a force to shape history for our cause. But how can I expect you to master our enemies when you can’t even master yourself?”

The Asset made a wordless noise of protest, which was somewhat undermined by his spasming muscles betraying his lack of control.

“Well.” Pierce gave him a searching look. “Perhaps you’ll still prove them right. This might help.” He held out the ginger root by its base, the only part not stripped of its skin. The rest had been roughly carved into a bulbous shape. The Asset looked between Pierce and the ginger, his usually fine tactical mind blunted to uselessness by the force of the lust that screamed at him to touch, to stroke, to _come_.

“You’ll need to insert it,” Pierce said, a little dryly.

The Asset succeeded in reaching out his hand and taking the carved root from Pierce, but that was all. He stood frozen, unable to contemplate what to do next that wouldn’t destroy the last of his precarious hold on his control.

Pierce pulled a handkerchief out of the top desk drawer and wiped his hands, then the blade of the pocket knife. Then he nodded toward the opposite side of the desk. “Brace yourself there and spread your legs. That should give you a good enough angle.”

The Asset had settled his free hand on the edge of the desk and spread his legs before he processed what Pierce meant. Insert. He knew about butt plugs, intimately, though why Pierce would need to improvise one was a mystery when the Asset knew for a fact that Hydra had a many and varied selection among its training equipment.

The Asset reached down between its legs and quickly realized his mistake as his wrist bumped against his dangling cock and the collar delivered another punishing shock. This time, the Asset managed to swallow the scream that threatened and hold onto the ginger. Still, from across the desk, Pierce delivered a withering look.

Hastily, the Asset reached over his back, awkwardly angling the makeshift plug towards his hole. The Asset’s sweat and the juices oozing from the freshly cut ginger made the thing slippery. He managed to settle the large, blunt head in place, but when he pressed, met only resistance, his muscles all clamped tight in an effort to stave off his climax. He pushed again, with no greater success, and then his eyes met Pierce’s over the desk.

“Do you need assistance?”

The Asset opened his mouth to reply, but only a dry croak emerged.

“There’s no shame in calling in backup.” Pierce pushed his chair out, then stood and straightened his tie. “I trust my agents to manage a team in the field, and to assess what’s needed to complete the mission. Do you need my help?”

The Asset managed a nod.

“Then what do you say?”

A wordless shout of desperation crowded at his throat, but he managed instead a breathless word, more air than sound. “Please.” At Pierce’s dubious look, he tried again, marshaling his remaining strength. “Please. Please, sir.”

“Yes, all right.” With a benevolent smile, Pierce rounded the desk. His hand closed over the ginger, and the brush of warm skin against his fingers sent the Asset shuddering violently, biting the inside of his cheek for the distraction of a taste of blood. The Asset snatched his hand away and braced it on the desk beside the other.

“Just relax now.” The ginger was pulled away, and in its place Pierce’s finger pressed against the Asset’s hole. When the Asset’s hips stuttered forward, Pierce’s other hand caught him by the waist to hold him in place. The contact felt cool against his feverish skin, but even that gentle touch made him push back involuntarily, searching for the friction that would send him over the edge.

“Shhh, now, none of that.” Pierce tightened his grip on the Asset’s hip and pushed his finger harder against the body’s resistance. It shouldn’t have been this difficult. The Asset was demonstrably capable of accommodating so large an object, even with no lubricant beyond the root’s natural juices.

The Asset tried to relax without coming immediately. He couldn’t remember being this aroused. It was possible one of those memory gaps of his held an experience like this, but otherwise his current physical state was wholly unlike anything the Asset had experienced. He hadn’t become aroused at all during the recent stretching exercises or other situations in which his new trainers had made use of his body. But now his cock felt painfully hard, his balls heavy and swollen. He realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d come. It hadn’t been a part of any maintenance regimen. But perhaps that had been an oversight, because he was now hideously vulnerable to this distraction and wholly dependent on his superior’s assistance to complete the assigned mission.

“Steady now.” Pierce screwed his finger in past the tight muscle, rubbing all around the rim of the Asset’s hole. “Stop resisting.”

The Asset concentrated on keeping very still while the finger was drawn out and the ginger settled into position once more. Then Pierce shoved, throwing his weight behind the bulky plug to force it inexorably forward past bowstring-taut muscles.

Once, in Warsaw, the Asset had been concealed in a target’s compound, waiting, when, during a dispute between the target’s employees, he’d been hit in the gut by a stray bullet. Making any noise would have given away his position, and so he had not screamed or gasped or whined. He had endured silently. And eight hours later, he had eliminated the target from his perfectly planned position.

He thought of that as he choked down both the pain of entry and the waves of pleasure pulsing through him at so much stimulation. At last, the thickest part of the bulb slipped past the rim, and the Asset’s hole greedily sucked in the tapering length.

“There. That wasn’t so bad,” Pierce said as he patted the Asset’s rump.

The Asset had decided to wait for the worst of the pain to fade before risking a breath, but the pain did not subside. It morphed from the throbbing of over-stretched muscles to a fierce burning radiating out from where the ginger was seated inside him. He squirmed, as if to shake it off, but every movement risked jostling the plug against the sensitive spot which made the Asset’s cock twitch and throb.

“That should help you keep control. Don’t you agree?”

The Asset clenched his muscles against the fresh arousal, only for the burning to rise to new heights, startling a gasp out of him.

“Soldier, I asked you a question.” Pierce’s voice held a dangerous edge.

“Please.” It was the only thing the Asset could think. He shook uncontrollably, pinned between the orgasm that threatened to crest at any moment, and the hot agony of the ginger, still building within him. “Please, sir.”

“You need _more_ help? This isn’t enough to bring yourself under control? That’s disappointing.”

“Please,” he whispered again. He didn’t fail his handlers. He completed his missions, always. But this pleasure building within him couldn’t be fought or evaded or destroyed. It roiled within him, subsuming even the pain under its weight. 

“I could give you a cock cage, I suppose. That would ensure you couldn’t touch yourself.” Pierce gave a lengthy sigh. “If this is how easily you succumb to the distraction of a little arousal, we may need to make a cock cage a permanent part of your equipment.”

The Asset pried his metal hand off the edge of the desk to dig his fingers into his other arm, recklessly squeezing. Even that pain only fed into the general swirl of sensation, carrying him higher and higher.

“Of course, I prefer my operatives to succeed under their own auspices, not because we’ve made it physically impossible for them to fail.” Pierce passed behind the Asset again, the heat of his body yet another goad urging the Asset’s arousal past the point of no return. “But perhaps that’s the best I can hope for from you.” Pierce shoved the heel of his hand against the base of the ginger plug, jostling the smooth bulk of it into the Asset’s prostate. The burning pain of clenched muscles disappeared under the inescapable pleasure, and the Asset knew then that he had failed.

As Pierce stepped away, the Asset’s knees collapsed, and his hands came down to cradle his cock as it jerked and spurted. He thought he might be screaming again, but couldn’t hear anything over the roar of blood in his ears. The continuous jolts from the collar were only a distant sensation in the wake of a towering wave of release.

The Asset lay on his side, his face pressed into the soft pile of the intricately patterned rug. His hands stretched out before him, his legs bent awkwardly where he’d fallen. 

Some time later, he became aware of Pierce moving away, to the other side of the desk. He hit a button on a device, and into a crackly speaker, said, “Jeannine, send in Lieutenant Wells, please.”

The guard who had escorted the Asset stepped into the room, and his eyes widened at the sight of the Asset panting and insensate on the floor. 

“I’m finished here.” Pierce stepped out from behind the desk and over to the neatly laid out array of supplied. “He’ll need this, evidently. Keep it on until you hear otherwise from me personally.”

Pierce picked up a small metal object from the selection and handed it to the guard, who came to kneel next to the Asset. The man unceremoniously pushed the Asset’s legs apart and lifted his cock to fit a hard metal cage around it. When he pushed it closed to latch the thing, it squeezed painfully around his barely softened cock. The guard tugged at it to make certain it was secure, then stood up again. “All set, sir. Come on, you.”

The Asset tracked their movement dully, trying to make sense of what was happening. The stubborn arousal had crested, but not disappeared. The Asset could feel it swelling up again even as he stumbled to his feet. The burning in his ass continued unabated, and the shifting of the ginger plug as he moved provided sharp, unavoidable stimulation. 

“The rest of the equipment can stay until the dose wears off,” Pierce said as stepped over to look down at the Asset. “Medical’s not certain when that will be, but no more than eight hours. The ginger will need to be replaced or refreshed every half hour or so. That’s all.”

The guard was gathering up the Asset’s clothes and boots, but he nodded at this. “I’ll see that it’s done, sir.”

The Asset struggled to his feet, his muscles weak and shaky in the wake of his first orgasm in memory.

“Soldier,” Pierce said sharply, and the Asset reluctantly raised his eyes to receive his just rebuke. “I hope you understand that your performance today was unacceptable. I expect great things from you, but I can’t trust you in the field until you’ve demonstrated that you won’t fail us.”

The Asset had no words in his mind, only the rising buzz of arousal mingled with pain. He managed a nod to indicate understanding.

“Good.” Pierce clapped him on the shoulder, and the Asset’s cock gave a painful twitch in its metal confines. “I know you’ll do better next time. You’re dismissed. Oh, and Wells, send someone in to clean this rug.”

       

\--

Pierce had scarcely settled back in at his desk to write out his notes on the meeting when a tentative knock at the door interrupted him.

“Come.”

Dr. Grable hurried into the room, already scribbling furiously on a clipboard. “I trust the effects of the compound were satisfactory, sir?”

“Very.” Pierce couldn’t help a smile as he glanced at the wet spot on the rug where the cleaning crew had done their best to erase the evidence of the Asset’s loss of control. “Did exactly what we needed it to.”

“The timings were very informative. This was the first time we’ve used this formula on an enhanced human.”

“And?”

“Before this, the longest any test subject had lasted before orgasm was six minutes. Even with this dose specially formulated for his drug resistance, the Asset lasted forty-two minutes.” She was practically beaming. “It’s a remarkable result. Remarkable.”

“He is a rather impressive specimen, isn’t he. I believe when he’s been trained correctly, he’ll be capable of great things.” Pierce stood and came around to shake her hand. “Thank you for your assistance with this project, Dr. Grable.”

“I’ll write out a report with our other observations after the whole team’s had a chance to review the tape.” She snatched a sheet from her clipboard and handed it to him. “These are the initial findings.”

“Good, good,” he said, leading her to the door. “And increase the dosage next time. I want to continue pushing his endurance.”

“Of course, sir.”

Once she’d gone, Pierce sat back in his chair and indulged in a few deep breaths. The image came too easily to mind of the Asset back in his barracks, writhing and moaning under the continued effect of the drug and unable to achieve release. But now wasn’t the time to indulge his imagination, not when he’d have more of the real thing soon enough. He shook his head vigorously and returned to his paperwork. He had enough self discipline to deny himself, and the Asset would need to learn the same control. Order through pain, he knew, was how his side would win.  



End file.
